Physical
by imfreakinorange
Summary: This is part of 'The Contract' by DIY Sheep universe. Read her's first! Wilson examines House's injuries after finding a cut on his wrist. This is a oneshot! Rated T for medical content that may make the kids blush :
1. Physical

**Title: **Physical  
**Author:** dyingwithdignity  
**Pairing:** House/Wilson, non-slash  
**Rating:** T, for medical content that may scare the kids  
**Spoilers:** None for the TV show (may be spoiler if you have not read 'The Contract' by DIY SHEEP  
**Warnings:** Medical terms, which include discussion about genitals, some graphic descriptions

**Summary:** Somewhere in the middle of 'The Contract' by DIY SHEEP, House has returned from prison. Wilson finds a bleeding sore on House's arm and patches him up before performing a physical (hence the title).

**Disclaimer: **I own NOTHING! Don't own House, Wilson or the premise of the story, which belongs to DIY SHEEP (which I mentioned above).

**Note: **Read 'The Contract' first please! It will be worth your time (just look for it in my favorite stories). In addition, you can find other stories that some very awesome people have written by going to http, colon, two back slashes, the name of the author of the contract (diysheep) period livejournal period com back slash 16483 period html (I wasn't sure if I could list links here so… sorry if that was confusing). AND I tried my very best to proofread, but I am sure there are a million mistakes! ENJOY!

PHYSICAL

House sat silently, knees pressed to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. He was rocking slowly, back and forth, back and forth, like he was quietly trying to sooth a baby, but no baby lay in his arms. Wilson sighed as he watched from the doorway. The room was dark, the only light seeping in from the hall in which Wilson stood.

Summer was approaching and the sun was staying up later and later, it wasn't until 9pm that the sky was finally bare. But as night rolled around, it was always the same. Any small step forward during the day would be met with two steps back at night. The smog from Trenton hid the stars and Wilson knew that even _they_ would not be enough to keep the fear away. Wilson had gotten House a nightlight at a local toy store, and House seemed to like it, although there was really no way to know. It was a translucent teddy bear sitting on a sliver of a moon. Wilson thought it was cute. His two year old niece had one just like it.

Wilson crossed the room and sat down on the bed, House's bed, which House rarely slept in these days. Wilson had made sure that House would have extra blankets if he was cold, a small fan if he was hot, water if he was thirsty, and a soft railing that prevented him from falling out of bed if a nightmare hit.

He had just taken House home from the hospital and he was still on TPN at night. House's weak body needed all the help it could get. A G-tube had been placed in House's abdomen in the first weeks of House's stay at the hospital, but he pulled it out nearly every night. He was restrained from 9pm to 4am until Wilson caught wind of it and subsequently the staff caught hell. With the failure of the G-tube, House had been placed on TPN all day. When he had gained 10 percent of his body weight, the hospital had released him into Wilson's care.

"_Dr. Wilson, you really should think about this. He still needs around the clock care. Just because he is out of the woods at the moment…"_

"_I can take care of him." Wilson said and quickly signed all necessary paperwork._

The bed, however, remained made, the pillows without a dent, and the railing in place. House had refused to sleep in it, favoring the floor. Wilson had tried, but House would forcibly knock over the railing and fall to the floor without giving a thought to the pain that it would cause. Seeing this, Wilson had checked over House, to make sure that he had not broken anything and bought an air mattress the next day. House with a PICC line, for the TPN, in his left arm would sleep on the mattress, his body taunt with anxiety every night.

House's bedroom had become very different in the years since House had independently occupied it. It was funny, to Wilson now, to think that House had been House, not a lump in the corner, rocking. He expected to blink and have the body turn around, make a sly remark, and ask him what was for dinner.

"_Chicken again? Come on, let's get some pizza… on you," House would stand and grab his cane effortlessly. "Why the hell are we in my bedroom anyway?" He would say, limping quickly down the hall. "Want a beer?" House would yell as he entered the kitchen. _

"Hey, House," Wilson said, a hint of a smile on his lips, "Chicken or pizza?" There was a moment of silence that lengthened. The smile dropped from his face. Of course it would be nearly impossible anyway. House's hand had been damaged beyond recognition and he could barely handle finger foods, not to mention a fork that would be required to eat chicken. "Not hungry hmm…" Wilson thought for a moment. "How 'bout a beer? Fridge is fully stocked," Wilson said pointing to the hall, but House only continued to rock. Sighing silently, Wilson got down on the floor to sit next to House. An air mattress cushioned the ground, along with extra soft pillows, a warm quilt and several small blankets intended for a child's crib. Wilson had seen the blankets a couple of week before. They were very soft, Wilson could practically feel the comfort emanating from them. He knew that House would love them and Wilson would do anything in his power to comfort House.

House's body was turned slightly and in the dark room, he was a little more than an outline against the white wall. Wilson had been talking to House's back, and made an attempt to see his face. Finding that it was too dark to see much of anything, Wilson slowly stood up again so that he would not startle House and turned on the nightstand lamp. Half the room was now flooded with light. Wilson blinked a couple of times, allowing his eyes to adjust. House made no such move.

"You ok there buddy?" Wilson asked softly letting his hand fall onto House's shoulder, House immediately flinched, his eyes shut tightly, and his respirations increasing. Immediately concerned, Wilson pulled House's shoulder back slightly so that he could get a better look at the man in front of him. Moving House's shoulder, moved the rest of his arm enough to see deep red stains on the front of House's knees. With his left hand, Wilson lightly brushed against House's knee and legs. House had no reaction. Pulling his hand back Wilson saw that a smear of blood lay on his fingertips. Gently, Wilson took House's left arm and turned it over. The wounds that had been there for years, were never given a chance to heal.

House was chained by rope, steel, and iron to the walls, floor, and ceiling of the prison. The restrains had been too tight and the skin on House's wrist had worn away. _C. perfringens_, a bacteria that causes necrotizing fasciitis, had infected the wounds and surgeons had to remove House's right hand. Wilson was almost relieved that House was stuck in his own world. If House had known, Wilson was sure that he would have never heard the end of it. Thankfully, House's left hand had been salvageable. Because it had not been his dominant hand, House hadn't struggled as much and the infection hadn't gotten as deep.

Wilson looked at the top of House's wrist first, the deep gashes were still present, but not bleeding. However, as he looked at the underside of his wrist, Wilson found the source of the bleeding. The wound was simply weeping, one of the scarred scars, separating from the skin. It was ugly, there wasn't much of House's body that wasn't at the present moment, but it was fixable.

"Does that hurt?" Wilson asked, immediately kicking himself for asking. To a normal, non catatonic person it would have hurt quite badly, and even to House, Wilson could tell, it was stinging, but there were so many healing, but not-yet-healed areas on House's failing body, that it probably wasn't much more than an annoyance. "Be right back. I'll fix you up, don't go anywhere." Wilson said standing, House made no move to track Wilson. He just let his arm fall onto a pillow next to him and looked at the wall.

Walking into the living room, Wilson found the medical bag full of supplies that he had taken home from the hospital. This one contained mostly gauze and dressing, along with tape, and saline bags. The other equipment, the TPN bags, the medications, and emergency kit lay next to it. Wilson looked around the living room, missing the old days when House's coffee table was filled with medical journals, old cups and dishes, and rings from beer bottles left unattended. Wilson could still see the faint outline of a ring. It was like House, only a shadow of the past.

Wilson grabbed the gauze and Neosporin and then thought better of it and picked up the entire bag. "Hey," Wilson said as he approached his friend. He had found that it was better to speak before getting close to House.

He knew that his friend could see him walk into the room, hear his footsteps coming down the hall, but no matter how short their separation House always seemed surprised that Wilson had returned. "I'm going to fix up your wrist there," Wilson said, his voice cheery. That seemed to help. "And then I'm going to look you over. Give you a bit of an examine, ok?" Wilson said. He was concerned that House was hiding other problems, problems that were much more serious than a cut on his arm.

Wilson tapped House's arm. House automatically turned his wrist over and continued to stare at the wall. They had been over this several times. When House's right forearm needed a dressing change, Wilson had requested House's arm every couple of hours or so. Finally, Wilson could just touch House's arm gently and House would respond. The first time it had happened, Wilson smiled, he knew that House was inside there and took the action to be a step in the right direction. House wasn't just a body, he was in there. Wilson was sure of it.

"Ok, tell me if I'm hurting you and I'll stop," Wilson said gently placing House's arm, palm up on a pillow that he had covered with a small sterile sheet. House didn't respond, but Wilson knew that he wouldn't.

Wilson took out a pair of gloves and began to put them on. He hated the sound that the latex gloves made, and he imagined that House did as well. He couldn't imagine being in House's place, to hear the snap of latex and to have to sit, passively, waiting for what one could only imagine to be more pain. He poured some alcohol onto a cotton ball. "This is going to sting, I'm sorry buddy," Wilson said as he swabbed the area that was still oozing blood. He looked at House's face, no reaction. He quickly fanned the area with a corner of the sheet, trying to take the string out. Wilson may have imagined it, but he could swear that House relaxed just a little bit.

He placed the sterile gauze on top of his wrist, being sure to place a little bit of pressure on the bleeding until he was satisfied that it had stopped. Taking tape out of the kit he made sure that the bandage was tight enough to stay on through a potential nightmare, but loose enough for comfort.

"I'm go to begin the exam, ok? I'm just going to listen to your heart," Wilson said taking off the gloves and tossing them into a nearby waste basket. The manufacturer hadn't intended it for medical waste, but of course, the manufacturer had never been to _this_ apartment.

Wilson took out his stethoscope and leaned in before he realized that House was positioned too awkwardly. "I'm gonna to turn you around to face me and take off your shirt," Wilson said, as soothingly as possible.

When House had returned from the hospital, he didn't like the feel of the clothes on his skin and Wilson was immediately saddened, imagining that House had been at least partly undressed for his five year stay at the prison. Wilson wouldn't have had a problem if House didn't want to be clothed, had it not been for the fact that the man was only skin and bones and shivered most days even with two or three blankets. Wool was the first option, because it _was_ so cold, but of course this was the worst possible material. It would rub against the cuts and scars causing too much discomfort. Finally, Wilson decided that layers were best. He had found the most comfortable materials and eventually, House got used to the feel of the soft cotton against his scarred skin.

Wilson pulled House, one hand on his left shoulder, the other on his right hip until House was facing him. His body was at least, his eyes were focusing on an invisible point on his pants. Wilson gently lifted House's shirt where it lay near the belt loops of his jeans. House had been wearing one of his old t-shirts, feeling that it would make House more comfortable in something that was familiar. Wilson had gone out and bought new clothes for House upon his return, but enjoyed seeing House in his old clothing. It made him remember the past and that was always a great comfort for Wilson.

House was no help, lifting up his arms slightly after Wilson had managed to navigate the shirt over his head. Wilson looked at House's right hand, or lack there of, and a pain hit his heart. He wished that hadn't had to happen. All of House's scars were ugly, Wilson knew he could do nothing but help them heal, but the hand he felt responsible for. He hadn't been the one to make the final decision. That had been Cuddy, only because Wilson couldn't. He couldn't spend the rest of this life knowing that he had given the surgeon the knife. That didn't help, Wilson still felt responsible.

Wilson placed the stethoscope's ends into his ears and rubbed the metal on the other end. It was still cold as he placed it on House's chest. The man didn't flinch, but he could see the shiver that ran through his body. Wilson listened and the room was silent. House's heart sounded good. No murmurs, which Wilson had been surprised to discover.

"_Nothing can hurt my heart," House had said to Foreman years ago. He had been set to prove his arch nemesis wrong by testing a migraine medication on himself. _

The pain then, when the medication had failed, wasn't half as bad, Wilson imagined, as the pain House was in now. The fentanyl patch on House's arm had only done enough to dull the pain enough to be tolerable, Wilson knew.

"Ok, lean forward," Wilson said as he pushed House forward slightly to have access to his back. Wilson felt funny manipulating his friend like this, and he was sure House would be embarrassed if he knew. Of course, Wilson had been taking care of House for months now, bathing him and changing bandages. This was nothing.

"Take a deep breath," Wilson said in a whisper, but House didn't respond. Wilson listened. It sounded like House's lungs were wet, but without a deep breath, Wilson couldn't be sure. "Deep breath," he said again, but there was no response. "I'm sorry," Wilson said pushing his fist into House's sternum and rubbing up and down a couple of times. The man responded with a gasp of pain and Wilson got his deep breath. Yep, some fluid. It wasn't much, but House wasn't coughing so he would be unlikely to clear it on his own. He would have to order some medication tomorrow. "I'm sorry" he said has he took the stethoscope off. House was breathing normally again and Wilson made a mental note to give him an extra cc of morphine later.

"I need you to lie down back," Wilson said shifting so that he was no longer sitting on the mattress. It wiggled slightly and then wiggled again as Wilson helped House lay down on his back. House starred at the ceiling, Wilson starred at House. With House's shirt off Wilson could see all the scars covering his friend's body. It was times like this that made him want to cry. He knew that House had been hurt badly, but it wasn't until it was displayed in front of him that Wilson could really see how badly House had been injured. His ribs had been broken again and again, left to set at unnatural angles. His arms had been broken, and they too were set horribly. His muscle had been eaten away by his own body and his torso was pale and thin. He was 6'2", but he couldn't have weighted more that 120 pounds, even now after months of weight gains.

Wilson palpated House's abdomen gently. There were scars everywhere and he took the time to look at every one to make sure there was no bleeding, no separation from the skin, and no new injuries. A scar ran across House's chest, crossing over his nipple and ending just before his body began to curve into his side. This, unlike most of the other wounds, which were ultimately superficial, was deep and the scar had never quite healed.

It had been treated at the hospital and had to be explored several times when it would not heal properly. It was a clean cut, which Wilson had guessed was made by a scalpel. The wound had been opened again and again superficially by an amateur playing doctor. The adipose tissue, the fatty layer beneath the skin, had been cut and then allowed to heal, before it had been cut again. Finally, the pectoral muscle had been cut in a meticulous line before it too was allowed to heal before being reopened. The same person had practiced surgery on House, removing House's nipple and then suturing it back into place.

Wilson tried not to imagine House's screams as all of this went on. He wiped a tear away from his face and a wince from his lips. House just stared blankly in front of him as if Wilson weren't even there. His eyes remained unfocused on the ceiling. Wilson looked at the scarring, brushing his index finger lightly along it. It was still weeping slightly along the edges, but there was no redness, no sign of infection. Wilson made small circles around the wound checking House's face for pain. There was none and so Wilson sat back on his heels and reached over to the medical supply kit again.

"Just going to clean this," Wilson said, softly tapping House's chest as he donned a second pair of latex gloves and took a sterile piece of gauze from the kit. He put a small amount of alcohol on it and lightly dabbed the area, removing dried and fresh blood, as well as, dead skin. Lines appeared around House's eyes, but the man made no move to pull away from the pain. Wilson knew that pain had been inflicted upon House many times and wished that he would not have to be a source of it. He fanned cool air onto the cut once he was done and felt House's body relax slightly.

"I know it hurts buddy, but it will make you better," Wilson said. He tried to smile and rub House's bony shoulder. His patient did not respond. He bandaged the wound and threw the trash into the waste basket next to him. "I have to take off your pants now," Wilson said and reached over House to grab a small child's blanket to cover the upper half of House's body to preserve warmth and a little dignity.

Wrapping the blanket under House's chin and down to his belly, Wilson began to unbutton and unzip House's jeans. "Lift your hips," Wilson instructed, automatically lifting House's hips up. Wilson could feel House helping a little bit. Once he had the jeans down to his ankles, he could feel the little bit of help disappear. House lay limp as Wilson tugged the jeans carefully over House's feet. House still had his underwear on, a pair of loose boxers a size or two too large.

Wilson remembered House wearing boxer briefs years ago, finding them on the floor of House's bedroom when Wilson had spent the night on the sofa. He had bought a couple of pairs of boxer briefs at the local Walmart, finding ones that were extra sofa, but House was not comfortable in them. Wilson had found House lying on the floor, his bottom out, a couple of times before he realized that the underwear had been too constraining. Wilson remembered his cousin, after having hernia surgery, saying that boxers were much more comfortable while he was healing. Since House had, had the equivalent of dozens of surgeries, Wilson had found soft, cotton boxers, buying them a couple of sizes too large. He knew that House would need to grow into them and he hoped he would put on enough weight to fill out the waistband.

Wilson kept the underwear on for now, trying to preserve as much of House's dignity as he could. Wilson looked at his legs. His right leg was much worse than his left, as it had always been. The large, jagged scar on his right femur had stood out in years past, but now it seemed to blend with the rest of his bitten and torn leg. Wilson quickly felt for any breaks or bumps that he had not felt before. He looked at House's face. No reaction.

Satisfied with that, he moved onto his left leg. House's leg muscles, like the rest of his body, had atrophied. Wilson slowly began to massage House's left leg like he had done with the right, looking for any changes while giving House's muscles a bit of a break.

PT had been ordered at the hospital, but House's condition had been unstable for a long time. While, he did receive some PT then, Wilson made sure that there was someone coming to the apartment when he felt that House was up to it, to continue the PT. Right now, because House would not follow directions it was only passive PT, something that Wilson was glad to at least start with.

"I'm just gonna take this off," Wilson said softly, as he lifted House's hips to remove his underwear. This time, House made no effort to help. Wilson sighed slightly, trying his best not to blush. He had none this a hundred times, he was a doctor who had examined hundreds of patients, but somehow _this_ was different. This was his best friend and he knew that House would be embarrassed if he ever knew. Wilson pulled the blanket on House's chest down a little bit farther, preserving some dignity, although he was sure it wasn't enough. "Don't get too excited there pal, I'm not Stacy," Wilson joked, House just starred at the ceiling. Wilson dropped the smile from his lips and palpated House's groin.

House's gut had, had problems digesting any food placed there by the G-tube. It took several days before they realized that House had a bowel obstruction that required surgery. Wilson looked at the surgical incision, it was much cleaner than the scars surrounding it. Wilson pushed down softly. His belly, abdomen, and bladder were all soft. He pushed down again on his bladder, observing his urethra, there was no leakage of urine and Wilson was relieved.

"You doin' ok there buddy," Wilson asked, although he expected no response. "You have to pee?" Wilson asked, looking up at his friend.

House had, had a Foley catheter for the first couple of weeks out of the hospital. With House sleeping on the floor, the catheter was not provided with the gravity it needed to work, consequently, Wilson had to change it much more often. After those couple of weeks, Wilson decided that House was well enough to try an intermittent catheter, which could be inserted and then removed on command. After a couple of accidents, House was able to retain urine as long as Wilson checked on him every hour or so. Wilson also felt that this arrangement would be much more comfortable for House.

His bladder felt rather empty and Wilson made a note of it in the back of his mind. He had catheterized House 45 minutes before, getting about 100 mL of urine, which was a healthy amount.

"Ok, this is going to feel a little bit funny," Wilson said as he examined House's urogenital area. This was another indication that House had been left without clothes. His genitals had gotten frostbitten and although everything had remained intact, the points farthest from his body had been badly scarred and deemed useless. Wilson touched the tip of House's penis, wondering silently if House had been circumcised before his incarceration. He could remember House joking about how unlucky Wilson had been to be Jewish and to have been circumcised as a baby, but he couldn't remember if House himself had been.

They had spent many times in the bathroom together, standing at urinals, side by side. The first rule of being of man precluded him from looking down however. It seemed to Wilson that House would have been, because it was cleaner, but cleanliness had never been one of House's top priorities.

In any case, House was now circumcised. The area was clean and looked professional. Wilson wondered if House's chest had been practice for the man with the scalpel and this had been the test. Wilson shook his head. It was better not to think about it. There didn't seem to be any farther problems and Wilson decided to leave it at that.

"I need you to roll over onto your chest," Wilson said, pulling the small blanket down so that House's lower body was covered. Wilson slowly pushed and pulled until House was on his side, and gently, lowered him on his belly. House turned his head so that he was not facing Wilson and pulled his arms from under his body and placed them so that his head was resting on them. Wilson felt House sigh silently, getting into a comfortable position. He smiled, rubbing circles around House's back. If Wilson didn't know better, he would have thought that House was content, that is if his eyes hadn't been blank and his muscles hadn't been so tight.

Wilson grabbed another blanket and laid it over House lower end. He looked at the scars, gently rubbing House's back as he looked for abnormalities. House's ribs, which had been broken and reset badly, poked from under his pale skin. In addition to being lines along his back, Wilson could feel several lumps where the ribs had been broken. The bumps lay in a line, like a bat had been used, and broken several ribs at once. He pushed the blanket up a bit to get a better look at House's bottom. Scars lay across each bony cheek. He moved the blanket back slightly and looked at House's legs, pressing down on the thin muscle and bone beneath.

"Still ok?" Wilson asked softly. He knew that it probably hurt to have so much pressure on his front, since there were so many scars and broken bones that had never healed properly. Wilson gave one last glance to House's back. He wanted to give House's chest a rest from the added body weight as soon as possible, although the air mattress had a lot of give and Wilson hoped that helped. "Just need you to roll back onto your side," Wilson said, pulling House's left shoulder and hip slightly so that House was on his right side, facing away from Wilson.

Wilson took the two blankets that had been around House and quickly draped them over the top half of House's body. Taking another blanket, he pressed it against House's front and then got an extra pillow from the bed and leaned it against House's middle. He pushed House forward slightly so that he could lean on the pillow and he didn't have to keep himself balanced and support that awkward weight.

"I know you don't like this part," Wilson said quietly, but House didn't move, didn't tense.

There was one final examine. This was the part that Wilson hated the most. He knew the lawyer had come before House had been arrested. The lawyer had come and beaten House, but all of that didn't seem as bad as rape. Wilson knew that everything House had gone through was horrible, beyond horrible. If it were him… well he just didn't want to think about that. But rape was different. It was hurtful to the mind and body, it was something that Wilson felt was worse than any other forms of torture. Wilson also knew, and had seen the tapes, that House had been repeatedly violated in prison, by guards and prisoners alike.

"Just bring your knees up a little bit," Wilson said softly as he took hold of House's legs with his left hand and gently placed his right hand on House's back to keep him still.

He swallowed hard despite himself. The repeated rapes had caused quite a bit of damage. House was incontinent when he had first been discovered and for a short time in the hospital. However, with recovery House had gained back his ability to control his bowels. He had an accident every now and then, when Wilson couldn't get him to the bathroom in time, but by and large he was all right.

The problem however lay in hemorrhoids that House may have had a while before prison. Vicodin had the well known side effect of constipation. The condition was made worse after that, however. Wilson had found blood in House's underwear many times and was concerned. The bleeding had gotten so bad that House had become anemic and his daily fluid intake had to be increased, as well as, the iron in the TPN. House had received surgery to shrink the hemorrhoids, but Wilson still noticed bleeding daily, although it was less. In his fragile state, House could not afford the fluid lost. Scarring had also occurred, making it more difficult and more painful for House to relief himself.

But, perhaps the worst, was the damage to House's prostate. Wilson imagined objects had been used and he had to take another deep breath to will away that thought.

"Just try to relax," Wilson said, putting a smear of petroleum jelly on his gloved right index finger. He placed his left hand on House's back. House didn't relax farther, nor did his respirations increase. He just silently laid there, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. House blinked, flinching slightly at the cold intrusion. Wilson looked up at a higher point on the wall, feeling the area. House grunted slightly and Wilson quickly looked down. "I know…" Wilson said, his voice dripping with sympathy, "I'm almost done." Wilson moved his finger a little, checking the prostate. House's hip bucked slightly, his external sphincter locking down.

House started to whimper and Wilson removed his hand taking his gloves off quickly. House rarely made a sound, saving it for when he was in extreme pain or discomfort. This, Wilson knew was House's most sensitive area, both physically and emotionally. Even with the intrusion gone, House continued to make small sounds of pain. Wilson started to rub his back in slow circles, watching as House's eyes clamped shut.

"I know, I know," Wilson whispered, he hadn't meant to hurt his friend, but he hated to have a small problem become worse. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know it hurts," Wilson whispered, cooing for several minutes until House had opened his eyes again and the whimpering stopped. Wilson continued to rub House's back for several more minutes, placing another blanket over House's bottom. He hadn't finished the examine, but knew that he couldn't now. There didn't seem to be any problems and so he figured he could leave it at that for now anyway.

"I'm sorry," Wilson said, "But it's done. No more," he said finding the clothes that he had taken off of House. Wilson looked at his friend. His eyes were blank again. He didn't know what to do. He thought about trying to take House into the bathroom to clean up, but figured that that would be too traumatic. He knew he would want to be alone if he were in House's shoes, but he wasn't sure if House would want to be alone. He didn't think House would _ever_ want to be alone again. "I'll leave you to rest," Wilson said. As he started to stand, he felt a tug on his shirt. It was House, his hand wrapped around a piece of cloth below Wilson's collar. House didn't say a word, but Wilson knew.

"Ok, let's just get you dressed. It would be weird if I sat next to you like this," Wilson joked and picked up House's shirt. Once he was clothed again, Wilson laid down next to his friend who had barely let go of Wilson's shirt the entire time. "It's going to be ok. Jimmy's here," Wilson said with a smile. He could have sworn that he saw a hint of a smile on House's face as he closed his eyes.


	2. Morning

CHAPTER 2: Morning

Slowly consciousness seeped in as Wilson opened his eyes. The first sensation was of pain, he took a deep breath and knew immediately that it was his lower back. His daily care of House demanded that he help him shower, wash up, pick him up and ease him back down into a chair or, more often, onto the floor. All the lifting, despite House's relatively light weight, had put a strain on Wilson's back.

He looked down without moving and found what he had suspected, he had fallen asleep next to House on the air mattress. He could see the smooth, almost plastic like appearance of the mattress as it met House's head which was presently in Wilson chest. House's hair, which had become matted as he sweat in his sleep was tickling Wilson's chest, just below his neck. Wilson moved slightly so as to not disturb House, but he already knew that the man beside him was awake.

Wilson could feel the uneven breathes that had become characteristic of House. Even in his sleep, nightmare free, House's body never quite relaxed. Consequently, House never got a good amount of sleep at any moment and had to catch up during the day, taking two or more naps when Wilson was working in the other room or in the evening.

"You ok?" Wilson whispered as low as his voice would allow. House didn't move. Wilson tried to turn to see what time it was, but the nightstand was too high and the clock too far away. The sun was up, Wilson could see, but it didn't look like it could be more than 8am. Wilson moved his shoulder, wincing as he tried to sit up. He knew that he shouldn't try sleeping on the floor like this, but if it let House sleep sound enough to stay the way he was, pressed up against Wilson, all night, then it was worth it.

"Need to get up here. Are you hungry?" Wilson asked even though he knew the response: silence.

"Pancakes?" Wilson asked trying to ease House off of his chest. House's hand was beyond repair, the other gone. Wilson tried to think of House's favorite foods, but they also had to be something rather simple to eat, since House would barely hold anything, let alone a fork or knife. Finger foods were best, even if they weren't always _supposed_ to be finger foods.

House's head was heavy as Wilson placed it onto the pillow next to him. Wilson pushed on House's cheek slightly so that they were eye to eye, but House refused to look Wilson in the eyes. Instead, he chose to look through him. It was quite haunting actually. Blank, icy, blue eyes, glazed over and glassy.

"You need to pee?" Wilson asked looking away, and getting out of the bed, only to end up on his knees on the floor. House didn't move, didn't reply. Wilson slowly got up, stretching his back carefully until he was convinced that the ache was dulling. He padded to the bathroom barefoot and opened a box sitting on the floor.

It contained any items Wilson thought would be used in the bathroom including towels, a couple pairs of House's underwear and pants, catheterization kits, bandages, latex gloves, enema kits, and adult diapers, something Wilson hoped he wouldn't need very often. He took a catheterization kit out of the box, as well as, a pair of latex gloves.

Placing them on the counter, he looked at himself in the mirror and rubbed his face. He looked old, he thought, as he passed a hand over wrinkles that had developed in the corners of his eyes. He blinked, once, twice and the dropped his left hand to join his right on the edge of the sink. He washed his face quickly and then dried with a towel that hung next to the sink. It would take a lot more for him to feel human again, but this would have to do.

"House," Wilson said, a fake cheer in his voice that even he hated now. He imagined that House hated it to. Wilson recognized the tone as upbeat and coinciding with a medically painful or embarrassing task. He hadn't meant to plant that seed that would no doubt create a Pavlov dog-like reaction from House, but it had happened all the same. If House recognized that, he made no sign.

"Come on buddy, let's get you to the bathroom," Wilson said, getting onto his knees to help House sit and then helping House stand, as Wilson slowly, but firmly pulled House up with him. No wonder Wilson's back hurt. House was uncomfortable standing and Wilson immediately moved around House's body so that his support was on House's right side and his left arm was wrapped around House back so that his hand lie on House's left hip. It was a tricky move, since House could hold very little weight on his own and Wilson had to perform this quickly.

"You ok?" Wilson asked and House responded with an uncomfortable grunt. They shuffled to the bathroom as they did every morning and Wilson slowly seated House on the toilet lid. Standing up to full height Wilson took a couple of steps back to see the clock on the nightstand. 7:55am. He had been interviewing people the entire week so that he could go back to work, at least part time. The search had not been going well. Most applicants were women and had come thinking that this was a babysitting job.

Upon finding that the 'baby' in question was a 52 year old man, most ran in the opposite direction. He had placed a notice on the hospital's service, looking for a trained nurse, one that could lift and possibly carry more than 130 pounds, but was gentle enough not to alarm a middle aged man who was jumpy 24 hours a day. The list was pretty short. There was one man, Clarence, he said his name was, that sounded good on paper. All that was left was for him to meet House and for House to meet him. He would be here at 10am.

"Ok, lets get you more comfortable," Wilson said moving back over to House. He pushed down House's underwear and jeans, which Wilson had never re-buttoned before falling asleep last night. House groaned quietly. "Maybe comfortable wasn't the right word," Wilson joked to House's reaction. He opening the catheterization kit and donning the latex gloves. House for whatever reason still had urine retention. Wilson had investigated it farther, but found that it was probably only a side effect to the anticholinergics that House was taking as a smooth muscle relaxant. 

Wilson took the kit and sat on his knees, on the floor. He tore open the betadine package and squeezed out enough to cover the cotton gauze next to it. "It's cold," Wilson said, like every time before, and swabbed the tip of House's penis. House didn't make a sound, only a slight wince in his eyes showed his continual surprise at the cold sensation. Wilson threw the gauze into the trash can and pulled the flexible rubber tubing out of the white, plastic casing. He connected the tubing to the collecting bag with ease that only comes with practice and looked up at House who was looking down at him. Well, not exactly at him, but in his direction. Wilson wished that for just a moment, House would look into his eyes. He felt like a parent with an autistic child.

"Just try to relax," Wilson said looking back down at his work. As soon as Wilson began to thread the catheter into House's urethra, House began to move, wiggling back and forth in what Wilson perceived to be an involuntary movement, at least something that House's couldn't completely control. Wilson stopped for a moment and looked up to see House's eyes were shut tight.

Not wanting to inflict any unwanted pain, Wilson preceded quickly but cautiously. He could feel a bit of resistance as the tube passed House's prostate. House moaned, low and deep in the back of his throat as Wilson gently moved the catheter another inch before urine began to flow. House grunted again, this time Wilson was sure it was out of relief as the urine quickly drained from House's bladder. Wilson put the tubing down, and let gravity do its job for the next couple of minutes. He stood up and placed a hand on House's shoulder, feeling it relax under his touch.

"I'm sorry," he said, a general apology.


	3. Bathtime

Bathtime

'One mL per minute' Wilson thought as he looked down at the collecting bag of the urinary catheter. There was at least 400 mL, which was a good number for a solid seven hours of sleep. It also explained House's relief when the urine began to drain and spelled good news since House was able to hold that amount until Wilson got him to the bathroom. He would have to keep an eye out, but Wilson was sure that House would be able to go on his own soon, as long as he was reminded.

"All done?" Wilson asked in a kind of sing song voice. House looked at a spot on the floor. "Deep breath," Wilson said as he pulled the catheter out. House barely had time to grunt before Wilson was finished.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Wilson said, discarding the kit and materials, before turning the water on in the bathtub. He made sure that it was at a good, warm temperature before turning back to House. "Arms up," Wilson said, and House responded, lifting his arms chest high. Wilson pulled House's t-shirt off and pulled his pants off from where they laid around his ankles.

Wilson checked the temperature of the tub and threw in some kid's bubble bath before turning off the water. The small bubbles appeared as a thin cover on the line of water. He helped House to his feet and then together they made a slow turn so Wilson could help House step into the bath. His left foot in, House's body went stiff.

"_They would take me sometimes," House said. His body still weak, he was leaning against a large pillow on the couch that began to slide. Wilson instinctually stood to fix it, but House held out a hand. The catatonia had ended two weeks ago, and while House was conscious, he still had trouble moving with his impaired muscles and tendons. However, being House, he wasn't likely to let Wilson help if he thought he could do it himself. This often ended in frustration, but Wilson was just happy to see him try. _

_House fixed the pillow so that it was a little higher and Wilson sat down. Taking a moment to turn again, House started, "They would take me from my cell, into the hall…" House turned for a second and Wilson found a convenient spot on the floor to analyze. _

"_The water was so cool, it hits you… and you feel like you're drowning…" House said and then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about the whole-washing-hands thing," House said finally. Wilson smiled rubbing his right cheek. _

"_It's ok, you have a hell of a left hook," Wilson laughed and House smiled. _

"It's ok, I'll be right here," Wilson said softly as he helped House pull his right foot into the tub. Slowly, they sank down, House in the water, Wilson outside. House remained stiff as Wilson took the washcloth from the edge and dipped it into the water, washing House's upper body. First his neck and chest, then his back and shoulders.

"Here," Wilson said taking House's left hand in his and placing the washcloth in it. "You wash below the belt," Wilson said with confidence. He had done this the last couple of days, convinced that if he sounded sure, House would believe he could do it too. House's hand fell back into the water, the washcloth with it. Wilson sighed.

"Come on buddy," Wilson said, reaching down into the water to retrieve the cloth. "You don't want me to do it," Wilson said, taking House's left hand again. Wilson wondered silently if it was _the hand_, if House had been unable or unwilling to try to perform tasks with his left hand. But that couldn't be true. House had begun to feed himself with his left hand, after some coaxing.

Maybe the task was too difficult, but Wilson didn't think so. Maybe House was angry that they had taken his right hand. In that case, it would make sense that he would want to punish, but having Wilson wash him seemed more of a punishment for House than it did for Wilson.

"Just try," Wilson said, placing the washcloth in House's hand again. This time, House did not drop the cloth immediately. Instead, he grabbed the cloth as best as he could and began to wash his leg, small movements back and forth, back and forth. A look of frustration was clear behind his clouded eyes. At least he was trying, that was an improvement.

"There you go!" Wilson said with a little bit more enthusiasm than he had intended. House dropped the washcloth and looked at the wall in front of him, frozen. "I'm sorry," Wilson said, "I didn't mean to scare you," Wilson said in a whisper. "That was a great job," Wilson said and picked up the washcloth again.

"Want to try that again?" Wilson asked, but House didn't move. Wilson sighed. So close. "Ok, maybe later," Wilson said and began to wash the rest of House's body, humming lightly, trying to keep the mood upbeat. The line of bubbles served as a line of privacy for House, and even as Wilson washed House below his waist, he had sure to keep the curtain of bubbles intact. Careful not to disturb any scars or wounds, Wilson finished just as the water was beginning to cool.


	4. Clarence

Chapter 4

"Dr Wilson?" a voice from the hallway called. Wilson jumped, looking at the doorway before turning back to make sure that he hadn't frightened House. House didn't move. He had a T-shirt over his head, but the sleeves still hung loosely, his arms bare at his sides. Wilson stood from his position next to House on the bed.

'It must be Clarence,' Wilson said to himself.

"I'm sorry, I'm early. I was afraid to knock," Clarence said from right inside the short hall between the front door and living area. Clarence looked around, the medical equipment was a hint to the occupant's condition and he could see that his patient would be in bad shape. The amount of medical equipment made Clarence believe that he had just walked into a storage closet at PPTH rather than a residential home.

"I'm coming," Wilson said from the bedroom.

"I'll be right back with your new friend," Wilson whispered, stepping away from House. House only turned his head slightly, looking out the window to his right. It was an overcast day, ordinary.

Wilson had placed an ad in the hospital's service, looking for a skilled nurse. He had talked to Clarence on the phone, but hadn't been able to meet him. Stepping into the living room, he nearly jumped again. The voice that had called from the hall and the one that he had spoken to on the phone did not prepare him for the man that stood in front of him.

Clarence was easily seven feet tall, built, with muscles that said he didn't mess around. Wilson blinked and Clarence turned. Immediately, Wilson could tell that despite the man's size, he was very gentle. His back strong, but his skin soft.

"Dr. Wilson, I'm sorry for coming in. I was afraid to scare him by knocking and the door was open…"

"That's all right," Wilson said with a smile, wondering silently how the door had become unlocked. "You're early," Wilson said looking at his watch. It was 9:15 and the nurse wasn't scheduled to arrive until 10.

"I know, I know. I just thought I could help with the morning routine… I'm sorry if it caused…"

"Oh, no, no," Wilson said quickly, happy to have a second pair of hands. "Actually, I was just getting him dressed," Wilson said and gestured for Clarence to follow him. Clarence walked behind Wilson, looking around the apartment. Paintings hung on the wall, a mixture of rock and roll and scenic photos of mountains and streams. The walls had not been painted in some time and he could see small dimples of age around the corners.

The first thing that he noticed, as they stepped into the bedroom, was the six foot tall man sitting motionless on the bed. His back was bend and his posture leaning towards the right. His hair was wet and pieces of graying hair fell into his face. Scars covered his biceps and forearms, where the shirt was not yet covering him. His expression was blank, his stare a thousand yards away, but his eyes were blue. _That_ was the first thing Clarence saw when he approached the man. His eyes were a crystal blue, clouded with an expression of fear and shame.

"House, this is Clarence. He's going to be looking after you," Wilson said as he pushed and pulled House's arms until they were in the sleeves of his T-shirt. House didn't respond and Wilson sat down on the bed leaning into House's ear, "Like a body guard," he whispered. House blinked once, twice and then turned and looked at Wilson. Wilson smiled as he and House made eye contact. It was the moment that Wilson had been hopeful for, for weeks now. House rocked for a moment and then stood slow. Wilson, still sitting on the bed, watched as House stood to his full height. Wilson was stunned, unable to move. House stood for moment, trying to balance on his feet, looked down at his toes that were peaking out from under his pants. Finally, he turned his head to the side and poked Clarence in the abdomen before clumsily wandering off.

"What… what does that mean?" Clarence asked, looking as bewildered as Wilson felt. Wilson had to wipe a tear from his eye and smile from his lips. The latter was impossible of course.

"I think…" Wilson said grinning, "I think that means he likes you."

Wilson laughed out loud and walked over to where House had been trying to escape into the living room. "It's a good sign," Wilson said to Clarence as he guided House back to the bed. "Socks first," Wilson said as he and House sat back down. "I think you have the job," Wilson said and Clarence smiled. "Oddest acceptance I've ever gotten, but I'll take it," Clarence said as Wilson held out the socks to House's new nurse.


End file.
